


spin with me endlessly (or at least until the end)

by trickstertier



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (and when i say slightly i mean literally only dave and jade’s unhappy marriage), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Divorce, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sadstuck, also the ptsd is like a very minimal part of this, in all lowercase because i’m edgy and sad, its like 90 percent divorce angst sorry, slightly follows the route of meat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 10:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20469392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trickstertier/pseuds/trickstertier
Summary: ”could've been one lonely nightjust like the othersbut you lit up my lifethis is what it's like to be lovers“jade thinks about what she had, and what she’s left with. slightly compliant with the canon of the homestuck meat epilogue.





	spin with me endlessly (or at least until the end)

it’s cold in his arms.

before you were together, you always thought that he would be warm - i mean, he lived in houston for god’s sake, isn’t it always warm there? - but dave strider is freezing to the touch. you think of his cold body pressed up against yours, late at night, nothing but a cocoon of blankets and soft, barely muttered nothings... you wrench yourself away from the thought.

it’s good. you balance each other out. you always thought you balanced each other out. your body temperatures reach equilibrium, something your emotions could never figure out how to do.

you heave in his arms, fat tears dripping from your green eyes, and you feel like a baby again. when you were young and you would have a nightmare and grandpa harley would comfort you. it’s an utterly nostalgic state of being; or, it would be, under different circumstances. now it just seems to be a reminder of all the ways he used to hold you.

“hey. i’m here, yeah? i came over cause you asked me to, remember? listen... i get it. night terrors are a bitch. we’ve all got them, jade. don’t be ashamed of that shit.” his voice is quiet, soothing. you don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak this quietly before, or at least not in a very long time. which is good, because right now any voice above a whisper is deafening.

you don’t want to talk about it. you don’t want to talk about how they never leave. you don’t want to talk about how every time you close your eyes, you can see all of the people you care about dying, over and over and over again. and you don’t want to talk about how fucking badly you miss him.

“i need to get some air,” you barely choke out, and before you know it there’s a crackle of green electricity and the two of you are in an old, old stomping ground; it’s the field where you had that picnic three years after the game ended, where you got the ring he gave you. it’s the field where he asked for that ring back.

you desperately need something else to focus on, and you pick it. funny; earth c’s stars look just like your earth’s. 

he gives you some space, because he knows you. dave strider knows you, god dammit, he knows everything about you. and he almost certainly knows how nearly every moment around him still sends sparks through your chest and makes your stomach do flips-

you breathe heavily for a few moments, broken and stuttered, before your heart rate returns to normal.

you lay on your back, not caring that the grass itches as you gaze up at the stars. he joins you. you sit in silence. it’s comfortable. dave understands. he always understands.

you always did want to go stargazing with dave. you never got to when you were together.

you must have fallen asleep, because when you awaken, you’re in your house, in your own bed again. there’s a figure sat at the edge of your bed, illuminated by pale moonlight streaming in from your window. your heart aches. god, if it had been different circumstances, maybe he would be here for good, yours and yours alone and- you stop yourself there. 

“hey,” you murmur out, weak and tinted with the slurred tone of just-woke-up. “don’t go.”

you see him, almost feel him, falter. there’s a soft, heavy sigh.

“you know i can’t, jade. i have to go back to him.”

you know he can’t, but that doesn’t make it any better.

“...please? i really... i really can’t be by myself.”

he’s almost to the door when he stops. he turns to face you, lets out another heavy sigh, and walks back towards your - what used to belong to the both of you - bed. he climbs in under the soft covers, and sits up, patting the space next to him for you to lay down in. “just until you fall asleep again. okay?”

you settle in again, your heart leaping at that familiar, icy coolness against your skin. “okay. thank you, dave.”

he hums in response. god, you wish you could hear that sound more often now. your last thoughts before you join the land of the sleeping are a wish. a wish that you could go back, you could do things differently - you could make him love you again. but you, jade harley, know that isn’t how it works. paradox space isn’t forgiving. paradox space doesn’t care about what you want to fix.

you enjoy what you have while you still have it. you enjoy the small things. you see him smile with him, laughing as he plays him his latest mix, lounging together on the couch as they watch a romcom.

he lights up your life just as much as the day you met. you just wish it was the same for him.


End file.
